


back in baby's arms

by starlatine



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Detective Noir, Flirting, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlatine/pseuds/starlatine
Summary: In the post-apocalypse, courting rituals were one of the first things to go.





	back in baby's arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masu_Trout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/gifts).



> Probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written? Enter at your peril. 
> 
> Title from the Patsy Cline song.

It was a night like any other; the air crackled in the way that said a radstorm was on the way, and the wind through Diamond City’s gables couldn’t drown out Percy’s perpetually cheerful sales pitches. The string lights that illuminated the marketplace swayed in the breeze, and Nick managed not to start when a hand settled on the small of his back, the touch burning through layers of cotton.

“Not the most picturesque of evenings. Did you have a sudden attack of conscience about smoking indoors, or are you avoiding me for some reason?”

Calling it a patio was generous, but there was a little balcony on top of the agency. It had a few chairs and a perpetually overflowing ashtray, and on a clear night you could see over to the Upper Stands. It was where Nick went to pour over cases after hours when Ellie was trying to sleep. Tonight, she was staying over at Piper’s, and Nate was more right than Nick wanted to admit. 

“Thought you might’ve wanted a break from my company for a night. We’ve only been together every waking moment for weeks.”

Nate leaned against the doorway with a hand on his hip and Nick struggled to keep his eyes on the man’s face. “Stingy I am, but my caps balance could handle a night at the Dugout. Don’t let me intrude, of course, but I thought you could use a night off, and I know you’ll be up all night brooding without someone to keep you occupied.” 

When business brought them back to Diamond City, Nick expected the kid to take advantage of some brief moments of freedom, but Nate walked him from the noodle stand to the door of his office like he was taking his first spin with a dame in his daddy’s Corvega. Nick wasn’t blind and the kid wasn’t subtle, but it had still taken him aback for a moment before he turned the handle in his titanium hand like he had a thousand times before and let Nate in.

He’d made his way upstairs shortly after, a move that he wasn’t too proud to admit was a retreat, only to be pursued by his tormentor. A well-worn excuse to turn in rested on his tongue, but he couldn’t look away from the way Nate’s face glowed faintly pink in the light from the neon sign on the street below. He had a smile that could induce system failure at twenty yards and hands that were incapable of keeping to themselves. The kid was trouble, head to toe: most everything else had changed, but in this respect Nate had continued to play to type since Nick first saw him blast through that vault. Probably why Nick couldn’t stay away—he and trouble had always had a special relationship. His plausible deniability was waning by the second, and despite the literal backbone of steel he had his moments of weakness. “Don’t suppose you’d like a drink. I hear nothing compliments noodles like irradiated whisky. It’s a 200-year-old vintage, nothing to sneeze at.”

Nate laughed, tipping his head back enough that the soft neon lit up the dusky expanse of his throat. Damn him, but Nick hadn’t seen teeth that perfect in years. “Do you have to ask, Nick? Thought you were a detective.”

“Yak it up ‘til you get the invoice. Banter’ll cost you extra,” Nick replied, but he headed back into the office. He knew when he was beat. If the sleeve of his coat brushed against Nate’s bare arm on the way out, well, the kid should’ve gotten out of the way.

 

 

Travis really had gotten better. Nick remembers when he first started setting up his broadcast station, almost two years ago now; no one thought he’d actually manage to keep it going that long, what with his unique personality and general ineptitude. He’d seemed like the least qualified person to be on radio in the entire Commonwealth, but he kept at it, and since Nate stepped in to help whichever Bobrov with his ill-conceived self-esteem scheme even the folks in Goodneighbor would admit Travis had a good thing going.

After they returned from Fort Hagen, Nate had spent almost a day cooped up inside the agency, rewiring a busted radio Nick hadn’t gotten around to throwing out. Nick had taken one look at him and given Ellie the day off. For his part, he puttered in and out over the day, not wanting to hover but not feeling right leaving Nate alone for long, but the man barely acknowledged him, just kept at it with his grease rag and pliers until he got the thing working. He managed it, eventually, and even after centuries of abuse the old box had a better sound than the Pip-Boy. The Commonwealth was full of surprises.

The sun had gone down a few hours back, and tonight Travis was in his real after-hours mode, segueing between Ella Fitzgerald and Danny Kaye with honey in his voice. Walking down the stairs behind him, Nate was humming under his breath, a habit Nick suspected was unconscious. He wasn’t very good at carrying a tune, which Nick found endearing. Even setting aside the visual differences, sometimes working with the vault dweller felt like playing understudy for a one-man-show. It was a relief to see him mediocre at anything. 

Nate sat himself down in the client’s chair, so Nick took the top of the desk. Sitting across from each other properly just made him think of the interview he’d done after Nate sprung him from the vault, and that wasn’t anything he wanted to dwell on. He pulled the pack of smokes out of his jacket pocket and shook two into his palm without much thought. Nate took the one offered, crossed his legs, picked up the well-loved zippo off the desk, and flicked it to spark. It was partly the difference in height with Nick sitting on the desk, but Nick was certain the kid could’ve held it out further than he did. He leaned in close to grab the light all the same; the tips of the darts brushed and lit up red in unison. Smoke in his eyes didn’t make him blink anymore, so he watched Nate’s face as he inhaled and let the light flicker out. When Nate opened his eyes and leaned back into his seat, he didn’t put the lighter down, just twirled it through his fingers like a magician with a silver dollar. 

The kid looked like the Vault Boy brought to life. Dimples in his cheeks, bow lips, cowlick that must have caused his mother grief. His wife too. He had eyes that honest-to-god sparkled and a way of walking into a room that made the hair on the back of anyone’s neck stand up. Nick didn’t have much experience dealing with people like this; generally, no one like that needed his help, in this life or the Old Nick’s. Guys like this made it through just fine on their own, or so he used to think. They’d been partners for long enough now that Nick knew that though Nate could charm his way through most things and shotgun through the rest, he’d seen things. It was a miracle he was making it through the way he was. Not many could come back from seeing their family torn apart in front of them and continue to see the best in people and a world that had come apart at the seams. God knows Nick hadn’t bounced back so easily.

The sound of the kid’s voice snapped Nick’s attention back from the movement of his fingers. “I managed to quit before the war,” Nate said, “but now I spend too much time around bad influences.”

“You wouldn’t begrudge an old synth some simple vices, would you?”

“Easy for you to say. The worst it’ll get you is some gummy coolant tubes.”

“I don’t know, I swear it gets into the voice-box somehow. I wasn’t always this raspy.”

Nate laughed at him and gave him a withering stare, playful with some challenge to it. “You’ve never heard a line you couldn’t quip back to, have you?”

“All in the job description.” Even though he knew he really shouldn’t encourage it any further, he couldn’t stop himself from playing along. “And admit it, kid, you just like to give me openings.”

Nate shook his head and blew smoke out his nostrils, real showy. “That I do, Nick. That I do.”

Nick tapped his smoke and tried to clear his head before he said another thing he’d come to regret. The ashtray was overflowing; Nick never knew what to do with it. Dumping it onto the street seemed like bad form, but despite Diamond City’s advancements it hadn’t reached the point of an organized waste disposal system. It was one thing for people born after the decline of civic garbage collection to toss their junk wherever they pleased, but he knew better. 

“I believe you said something about whisky. Or did you bring me down here on false pretenses?”

Nick snorted. “You know where to find it. No key to this liquor cabinet.”

“You’re too generous, Nick. Has anyone ever told you that?” Nate rifled through the top drawer of the desk with his cig hanging out the corner of his mouth. He pulled out the amber bottle and took a swig right from the mouth. Nick made a valiant, though unsuccessful, effort not to watch the workings of his throat as it went down. 

“Ellie has made her feelings clear.”

“Bless her heart. I’m glad there’s someone else around to try and talk some sense into you, though I don’t know if she has any more luck than I do.” Nate tossed the butt onto the mountain in the ashtray, swished the bottle around, took a more leisurely sip, and screwed the cap back on. “Come to think of it, did Ellie ever ask you before she gave me your hand-me-downs?”

Nick shook his head. “I’ve given her the slip enough times now that I don’t think she feels the need to get my permission before she gives my things away.”

Nate uncrossed his legs, only to cross them again the other way. He tilted his head, a mischievous look playing around his mouth. “I try not to wear it around town. Didn’t know how you felt about being part of a matching set.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think we’ll be giving Vadim and Yefim a run for their money any time soon. You got all the charm and good looks, and I got… well, a bit of the charm.”

“I think most of Diamond City would disagree. You should’ve been the Silver Shroud. I don’t think I did a very good job. I always liked the Mistress of Mystery better.”

Nick shook his head. “Gonna have to grow your hair out for that one.”

“I’m working on it. Not so practical for hand-to-hand combat outside of teleplays, is the thing.” Over the radio, Travis was giving his final sign-off ‘til morning. The first bars to “End of the World” started piping through, and Nate’s eyes lit up. “You know, this is one of those tracks that never get tired. I can only listen to Butcher Pete so many times, but Skeeter’s got that something.”

“I’ve always thought it was a bit on-the-nose.”

Nate grinned. “Well, it is that.” He stood up from the chair, pushing it back with his foot; it slid on its wheels ‘til it hit the back wall. “No one knows how to dance anymore. Have you noticed that?”

Nick did not like where this was going, but he felt like the proverbial man tied to the train tracks, with the blaring locomotive headlights being the glint in Nate’s eye when he was up to no good. “I’ll admit it, I have. You can hardly blame them, though. Most people have enough going on just trying to survive.”

“But you remember, I’m sure.” Nate stepped closer, their knees brushing through their respective slacks, his shoulders twisting slowly to the beat.

Nick cast around for an excuse, but absolutely nothing came to mind, so he settled for playing for time. “Always had two left feet, I’m afraid. Now it’s two steel ones, which is hardly better.”

“Save me your lies, Monsieur Valentine. No one that good in a firefight lacks a sense of coordination.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Nick would’ve swallowed if he could. Something softened in Nate’s gaze, and for the second time that night Nick felt a hand land on his shoulder, but this time it was tentative, barely there at all. “If you’d rather turn in, you can. It’s been a long day. I’m just playing around.”

It was that, more than anything, that pushed past his feeble defenses, the still-stubbornly-human part of his brain worn down by the kid’s persistent concern for his welfare. Chances were high that one or both of them would regret it, but Nick suspected that threshold was already crossed an hour ago, maybe long before that, and he was in the business of trusting his gut. “You’re good, I’ll give you that, but I don’t think even you can beat a machine in a contest of stamina.”

Nate smacked his forearm, a delightedly scandalized look on his face. “Nick!” He doesn’t remove his hand.

Nick dragged his good hand over his face. “Not what… aw, hell.” Steeling himself, he reached out for Nate, his body still remembering the pose even though it moved through the memories of a ghost. Whatever they built him for, it wasn’t this, but his hands settled on Nate’s waist and shoulder-blade like they were meant for it.

Somewhere in the distance, Billie Holiday crooned, _I’ll move the mountains if he wants them out of the way_. It was too much to dwell on, too familiar and too foreign at the same time, so he opened his mouth one more time to lean on what little he had to work with. “You know, way back when I would’ve only come up to your chin. At least the Institute had the good grace to make me tall.”

Nate’s hands danced over his shoulders, his arms, as if for all his talk he couldn’t quite remember how it went. His body heat was stifling, and Nate could feel his breath on the side of his face when he laughed. “What? You’re pulling my leg, Nick, come on.”

“Would I do a thing like that?” They were turning in a rough circle, hardly moving their feet in any sort of elegant way, and the good thing about the proximity was that Nick could stare at the wall over Nate’s shoulder instead of his face. 

“I see through you, mister. Spend some time in a vault, suddenly everyone thinks they can pull fast ones.”

“Maybe so. Maybe it’s those doe eyes of yours, making people think you were born yesterday.” It really wasn’t helping that he’d made a habit of talking to everyone like they were dames. 

“Oh, you charmer. You haven’t even bought me dinner.”

“Got this far without it, didn’t I?”

Nate laughed and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Nick’s shoulder. Nick’s processors supplied a feeling of softness from his skin even through the cloth; he knew his rudimentary senses weren’t _that_ good, but it still felt real. “You could get a lot further, if you wanted to press your luck.”

Nick tensed up, if it were possible for a chassis to hold itself even more tensely than it already was, and fought to keep his voice cool. “There’s an idea. Thing is, I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer in that department, these days.”

Nate hummed. “Whatever you say, though I’d agree to disagree.”

Nick pulled back, forcing Nate to meet his gaze. In the dim light of the office, Nick could see the gold of his electric eyes reflected in Nate’s pupils. “You know you could head back to Sanctuary and there’d be six different people trying to get into bed with you.”

“Ah, but there’s only one Nick Valentine, and he’s conveniently in my arms.”

When he first offered to keep the vault dweller company Nick wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t sunset dinners at Takahashi’s where the kid wouldn’t stop knocking their knees together under the counter. They haven’t spent more than a day apart in weeks, running between settlements in crisis and odd jobs for the dodgiest characters in the Commonwealth. Nick had been around a few times, but he’d never gotten such a concentrated dose of weird since he scrambled out of the trash heap. His strength of will has been worn down by repeat exposure to flirtatious nonsense, and it feels like he could just reach over and tip the glass, let it happen. 

“I’m gonna have to get back to you. I’m not saying no, mind. Just...”

“...Not right now, got it. Well, that sounds more than reasonable. Make a case file. I’m sure Ellie’d be happy to help you weigh out the means and motives.”

“One of these days, that mouth is going to get you into trouble.”

Nate laughed into his shoulder, and Nick felt the vibrations run down his frame to the floor. “That’s the plan.”

The wind and rain rattled the tin roof, and overtop Billie sighed, _crazy in love, am I._


End file.
